


Down in the Forest With the Devil in Me

by ElisabethMonroe



Series: TRC Prompt Week 2020 [4]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dream Sex, Forest Sex, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Voyeurism, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24432565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisabethMonroe/pseuds/ElisabethMonroe
Summary: In which: Adam scrys into Ronan's dream
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: TRC Prompt Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760308
Comments: 8
Kudos: 181
Collections: TRC/ CDTH Prompt Week 2020





	Down in the Forest With the Devil in Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [one of the greatest songs ever](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cpy-FJRplvg)
> 
> Prompt: NSFW/SMUT

Adam woke up in Cabeswater. Maybe woke up wasn’t the right word. He wasn’t awake. But he wasn’t in his own dreams either. Scrying into Ronan’s dreams wasn’t easy, but since Cabeswater’s energy seemed to thrive most in his subconscious, Adam found himself reaching out to it more and more often, especially when he was exhausted and couldn’t stop the thrum of magic in his veins. If distance made the heart grow fonder, college in another state wrecked havoc on magic bonds.

He walked through the familiar forest quietly, listening to the trees sigh at his return, feeling the energy of it all settle around him. As usual, Ronan was in a clearing. Adam still hadn’t figured out if he made them in his dream state, or if he sought them out, or if the trees just parted for him to let the sunlight wash over his skin. Ronan in a clearing was not unusual.

What was unusual was that Adam was already there.

It wasn’t quite Adam. He was a little older, a little broader, a little tanner. His hair held more of a curl and his freckles were darker and more prevalent across his nose and shoulders.

Adam had never seen Ronan’s dream version of him before.

Neither of them had noticed Adam yet, too caught up in each other, Ronan practically in not-his lap. Adam watched not-his hands wander over Ronan’s back, clinging onto the tattoo in the same way he did. Ronan held onto not-his hair the same way he did in real life and Adam’s heart ached to be back at the Barns with him.

Not-him laid Ronan out over the ground, staying between his legs and dragging not-his hands down Ronan’s chest slowly until Ronan grabbed not-his wrist and brought not-his fingers to his mouth. Dream-Adam bit his lip and held onto Ronan’s jaw as Ronan worked the dream’s fingers between his lips.

Adam felt like if he watched for a second longer, he was going to explode, so he stepped forward. And again. And again. Neither of the other two seemed to notice him and when he came around a tree and sank to his knees by Ronan’s eye, Ronan’s eyes were hazy and took a few seconds to lock onto Adam’s face. A slow smile came to his mouth and he reached out for Adam’s jaw.

“You’re not a dream,” he said, pressing his thumb against Adam’s lower lip until Adam opened his mouth enough to duck his head down and close his lips around Ronan’s thumb. “How did you get here?”

Adam thought about explaining it. Explaining the mirror he’d tacked up on the wall by his bed in a bid to get this exact outcome when he stared at it while he fell asleep, explaining he’d had four hours of sleep the night before and an eight hour shift at work and two essays due, explaining that he hadn’t stopped thinking about Ronan through all of it and when he touched his fern, it had sprouted a whole new leaf because of the magic in his body wanting a release.

Instead, he pressed his hand against Ronan’s cheek, ducked away from Ronan’s, and leaned down to kiss him sweetly. “I’m not a dream.”

Dream-Adam hadn’t moved, hands still resting easy on Ronan’s knees, eyes trained somewhere near Ronan’s hip. He hadn’t looked at Adam or reacted at all, which was fine by Adam. When Ronan sat up, he kept his legs around the dream’s waist but turned to kiss Adam properly, all the fire and urgency that they usually had when they were half naked together.

“I’ve got an idea,” Adam murmured between kisses, against Ronan’s skin when he could. Ronan hummed back, permission to continue. “Why don’t you and that near-infidelity keep doing what you were doing and we’ll see what happens.”

Ronan shuddered against Adam but still found time to be contrary. “Sex dreams aren’t infidelity and he’s literally you.”

Adam shot an unimpressed look at the man on their other side. “That’s a model.”

Ronan snorted and dragged Adam into another hot kiss before saying, “He looks just like you. You look like a fuckin’ model, Adam.”

Adam rolled his eyes and pushed Ronan back, a small, pleased smile coming to his mouth. “Whatever,” he said.

The dream came back to life as soon as Ronan was looking at him again. He climbed into Ronan’s lap and Adam watched the dream’s hips work against Ronan’s thigh. Ronan immediately reached for his jeans and unbuttoned them. One instant the dream was wearing jeans and the next, he was not. It was the same unperceivable magic of Cabeswater, of the ley-line, of  _ Ronan _ . Adam’s head hurt to think about it too long, but the dream distracted him, shoving his slightly knobby hand down the front of Ronan’s boxers and dragging a litany of curses and pleas from the man. The dream’s arm was a thing of beauty as he worked Ronan in his pants, all corded muscle and smooth skin. Though, the longer Adam watched, the more he realized the dream  _ did  _ have some of his scars, big and small. Ronan had put in all the fine details over Adam’s body, things that even Adam forgot, like the straight line over his elbow from where he burned the shit out of himself one summer at the garage, or the cloudy birthmark on the back of his ribs.

Adam almost missed Ronan coming with a cry, face buried in the dream’s shoulder. The dream kept his arm going for a few seconds until Ronan reached for his hand, drawing it out of his pants and bringing it to his mouth again. Adam almost looked away as Ronan’s tongue snaked out to lick the mess from the dream’s fingers, the eye contact, the intimacy of it all almost too much, but arousal panged painfully in his gut and he couldn’t look away. He leaned forward and kissed Ronan, hot and probing. The logical part of his brain knew that the taste and the texture wasn’t quite right, reminded him none of this was actually real. The logical part of his brain wasn’t loud enough.

The dream still hadn’t reacted to him, but when Adam reached over and shoved his shoulder, the dream laid back in the grass exactly how Adam wanted. It was weird to see himself--no matter how handsomely distanced--being used as just a body, something that Ronan (and now himself) used for a goal, but at the same time it was pretty hot to watch himself make Ronan feel good.

Ronan followed the dream down, kissing his chest and his stomach, the fine happy trail that Ronan had managed to copy exactly from Adam’s body. Adam shifted behind Ronan while he was preoccupied and pulled his boxers down, ran his hand over the curve of his ass appreciatively. Ronan moaned against the dream’s hip, working Dream-Adam’s boxers down too, though they seemed to have a questionable relationship with existence at the moment--there one breath and gone the next, then back. 

It was a dream, and since it was a dream, Adam got to watch Ronan swallow a really good approximation of his dick down in one go. And since it was a dream, Adam didn’t have to waste time, didn’t have to tear his eyes away from the show in front of him, to press into Ronan, holding onto his hips tight enough to pull Ronan almost all the way off the dream when he rocked back.

For the first time, the dream made a noise, something desperate and keening, hips coming off the grass to follow Ronan’s mouth. Adam wondered if that’s what he actually sounded like to Ronan. The more Adam fucked in and out of Ronan, the messier Ronan’s mouth got, the louder the dream got. At one point, they both moaned at the same time--Ronan’s head falling to the juncture of Dream-Adam’s thigh and pelvis, the dream’s cock dragging along his cheek and jaw--and Adam’s vision went white with want.

When he dragged himself back down, the dream was clutching at the grass next to him, tendrils of it growing around his wrists and up his arms, as Ronan worked his cock at a bruising speed until the dream was choking on his words, teasing out Ronan’s name between pants and groans. Ronan swallowed the dream down again and held onto his hips as Dream-Adam shook with his orgasm.

Ronan was good at swallowing, but the dream was still too clean when he pulled off, considering how slick Ronan’s own lips were as he turned his attention on Adam himself.

“Enjoy the show?” he asked, voice husky and raw and wrecked.

When Adam tackled him down, Dream-Adam was gone and it was just them. “Not done yet,” he said and sank back on Ronan’s flushed, hard cock. He leaned forward to drop his face against Ronan’s neck, panting against him at a perceived stretch that came and went when he thought about it. But he knew the feel of Ronan’s cock in him and he didn’t have to concentrate to make it up.

Ronan moaned under him, deep and rumbling from his chest where Adam’s good ear was pressed. Ronan’s hands dragged over Adam’s back, blunt nails scraping down the edges of his spine as Adam kept up as much of a rhythm as he could. Truth be told, he just wanted to sit on Ronan’s cock for as long as he could. He could get lost in the dreamspace that way.

He felt Ronan tense under him so he was doubly unprepared for Ronan to sit up, dragging Adam with him, and then throw Adam back against the grass to flip their positions. One hand gripped onto Adam’s hip in a bruising hold and the other dug into the grass near Adam’s head. He drove into Adam with the same intense speed he’d blown the dream, Adam’s name tumbling from his lips like a prayer. Adam felt the stretch of it all now and loved it, grabbing at the grass (the same way the dream had, he hated to admit) as he rode out his own orgasm first and then Ronan’s only a few thrusts later, warmth spreading deep in him as he panted in the grass.

Ronan collapsed half on him, working lazy half kisses against his slick skin and reached down to run a loose ring of his fingers over Adam’s half hard length, covering him in come and sweat and then leaving it to settle between his thigh and groin when he got bored. They laid together, faces turned towards bodies and breaths landing on skin, for so long that Adam almost fell asleep.

Ronan finally moved over, laying next to him, but not on him, and smeared his hand through the mess on Adam’s belly. “God, I wish you could stay, Adam,” he said with so much sincerity and emotion that Adam had to choke down a knot in his throat.

“I’ll be home soon,” he promised. “This is a fun discovery though,” he pointed out, head lolling to the side to look at Ronan, an easy, sated grin on his lips.

“It’s good, but it’s not the same,” Ronan said, as if Adam didn’t know that. “And now I just miss you more.”

“I’m right here,” Adam murmured, leaning over to kiss Ronan’s jaw.

Ronan pushed him back down and climbed over his lap again, holding Adam’s wrists over his head and in one hand. Adam tested his mobility and relaxed when he knew he wouldn’t win. Ronan studied him with a critical, adoring gaze. “One day I’m gonna have you all the time.”

“You already have me, Ro. Clearly.”

Ronan shook his head. “Like this, under me, against me. All the time.”

Adam felt something crawling over his thighs, hip to ass cheek, holding him down. He shifted his legs against the grass or vines or whatever was growing over him at Ronan’s behest. “Soon, baby. We’ll have the rest of our lives,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re it for me.”

Ronan smiled sadly and let go of Adam’s wrists. “You’re leaving anyway,” he said.

And Adam woke up in his dorm room, staring at his own face in the mirror. He turned over and groaned in disgust at the mess in his boxers. He’d have to wash his whole set of sheets. And he was  _ sore _ . He slowly got out of bed and peeled his boxers off, crossing to the sink to clean himself.

The longer he was up, the more he was sure he hadn’t scryed in at all. It made no sense that he and Ronan didn’t have to deal with their own physicality. It was just a really good sex dream.

He soaked a washcloth and started cleaning himself off, top down. He had to stop halfway down though, because all the way around his hip was a hand shaped bruise, in a very familiar size.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me and this ficlet here on [Tumblr](https://abarbaricyalp.tumblr.com/post/619413010703843328/down-in-the-forest-with-the-devil-in-me)


End file.
